


Only the Good Die Young

by Abbie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver talks to Tommy about how all his dead keep coming back to life—except Tommy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only the Good Die Young

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for this.

Oliver knelt down on the grass and reached out to brush away a few gathered, dead leaves from the base of Tommy’s headstone, sighing through his nose as he tightly pursed his mouth.

He should visit more. It just didn’t feel like he ever had time.

And yet, now, right now, the only person Oliver found he wanted to talk to was Tommy.

Maybe better late than never.

"I’m sorry," Oliver started, then had to stop and clear his throat. "I should have been by sooner. It’s just… been a little nuts, Tommy. Since you died."

His voice cracked a little on the last word, and he swallowed thickly; it still felt like eating broken glass to say it out loud.

"I miss you," Oliver suddenly laughed, harsh and low, painful. "I goddamn _miss you_ , Tommy. So… _so_ much.”

Oliver sucked in a sharp breath and stared blindly at the name etched into the marble. “Every time I turn around there are ghosts standing right in front of me. Even you haunted me, once.”

Oliver’s head dropped, and he lowered himself heavily to sit on the cold ground, one knee drawing up to prop his elbow on. Scrubbing a hand over the back of his head, Oliver carried on, voice a hushed, hot, miserable whisper. “Sara, Slade, _me_ … who the hell _doesn’t_ come back from the dead in my life, Tommy?”

He inhaled again, hard. “I’ll tell you who. My dad. Your mom. Shado. _You_. None of— _none_ of the people who, of anyone, _should_ be getting a second chance at life, they never… you never come back.” His hands curled into tight fists, eyes burning with anger, shame, and tears. “I’d trade us all for you, Tommy. For Shado. Me, Sara, Slade… we’ve all got so much blood, so much death and pain on our hands. We’ve done _so_ much… it isn’t fair.

We shouldn’t be the ones who keep getting to _live_.”

Oliver stared to one side, shook his head harshly, and stood in quick, jagged movements. Staring hard at the headstone, his voice burning like a torch in a dark, damp basement, Oliver cracked and begged, “Come back, Tommy. _Please_. Nobody stays dead who should; _you_ be the one to be unexpectedly alive next time. Please.”

He stood and stared, for long minutes, eyebrows twisted in anguish, mouth a flat, grim, hopeless line. After a minute of expecting nothing—and still being disappointed by its receipt—Oliver’s shoulders slackened, falling in defeat.

He didn’t say goodbye, as he turned and walked away.

Maybe it could mean he’d get to say hello again, instead.

—

Months later, when Malcolm turned up, alive and well, Oliver would laugh bitterly and silently demand of the universe why they gave him back _the wrong goddamn Merlyn_.

Weeks after that, when Felicity died protecting Thea from Malcolm, Oliver wouldn’t beg the universe for any miracles.

He’d finally learned his lesson.

The good ones were always the ones who stayed dead.

**Author's Note:**

> But really, after 2x14's ending, I couldn't help but imagine Oliver feels a little betrayed by the powers that be that the only people who don't come back from the dead in his life are the ones who really deserve to.
> 
> And then I killed Felicity and for that I'm just sorry.


End file.
